


Limerence

by lemonpie



Series: Mother Mother [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Credence Barebone Needs a Hug, Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Obscurial Credence Barebone, Obscurus (Harry Potter), Obsessive Behavior, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-06 22:00:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15894957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonpie/pseuds/lemonpie
Summary: Credence Barebone exploded in rage in 1920. He woke up in an alleyway in 2018. His obscurus, desperate to save itself and its host, dragged him forward in time.All Tony Stark wants is one normal day. Just one! Is that so much to ask for?





	1. Heavy Body

**Author's Note:**

> This deals with some very heavy themes, mostly centered around Credence. Boy's had a rough time. This also disreguards any Crimes of Grindlewald canon.

For a long time, all Credence knew was pain. It hurt worse than anything he’d ever had to experience, worse than the Belt, worse than Ma’s nails on his cheeks when she slapped him, worse even than the time she pushed him too hard and he fell down the stairs and broke his arm.

And then, all of a sudden, the pain stopped. Credence came back to himself in waves, like he always did after an episode. He slowly became aware of his legs, his arms, his body, his head, his eyes.

The alley he was in was much too clean and much too bright to be any of his usual spots, and there was too much noise at the mouth of it to be normal. Credence whimpered and curled up tighter, shutting his eyes. Maybe when he opened them again, things would go back to normal.

No such luck. The world remained too bright and too loud to be his. Where he was, Credence didn't know. All he did know was he wasn't where he usually ended up. And that was complicated.

After a long moment, he decided to stay put, just in case someone saw him. He didn't want anyone to see him, not now.

It wouldn't be long before someone did see him. A man with dark hair and a strange beard and a glowing light in his chest, who was walking towards him, flanked by a man who was terrifyingly big.

Credence scooted back, closer to the wall, and curled further in on himself in the hopes that they wouldn't see him. Of course, he wasn't that lucky.

“Hey, kid?” One or the other of them said, Credence wasn’t sure. He bit back a whimper and pushed his back into the bricks.

One of them, the smaller one, crouched down and lifted his hands in a placating manner. “It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you. My name is Tony. This here is Steve. Okay? Do you have a name?”

Slowly, Credence nodded. He didn’t want to be a Barebone anymore, but if Modesty tried to find him (if she even could) that would be the name she would use.

The man smiled kindly at him and held out his hand. Credence hesitated for a moment, but the monster that lived in his chest purred out reassurances that it could protect him, so Credence slowly uncurled and took the man’s hand.

He was lead into the building he had ended up next to, and into a small box that made him slam his back into the wall and cover his head when it started moving. His eyes were closed, so he missed the pointed look ‘Tony’ had given ‘Steve’.

From there, he was introduced to the rest of the people that lived in the tower. A woman who reminded him a lot of Miss Tina, a very big man who terrified him, a smaller man who smiled at him when he was introduced and made Credence feel at ease, and another man who just waved.

They all had weird names that Credence already couldn’t remember. The creature in his chest crooned at him that it could kill them all if he would just let it out, let it out, let it out.

Credence refused. So far, they’d all been nice to him. Especially the smaller, darker haired man with a purple shirt that had the thing in his ribcage settling. He stood awkwardly by the strange moving box, messing with his shirt sleeves.

“So, kid.” Said the man with the glowing light. The creature crooned and hissed that it would be so easy, they’d tear this place to the ground. “How did you manage a thing like time travel?”

Time travel? Credence hadn’t meant to do any time travelling. He said as much in a hoarse whisper, apologising too.

He missed the way Mr. Purple-shirt winced.

“I really didn’t mean to. I was just scared.” He mumbled, flinching when… Tony… That had been his name, hadn’t it? Tony went to put a hand on his shoulder.

Once again, he missed a particularly pointed look between Tony and the big blonde, Steve, wasn’t it?

“Hey, Credence, right? My name is Bruce.” Said Mr. Purple-Shirt, and Credence glanced at him from under his lashes. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

Hesitantly, Credence nodded, twisting his fingers into the hem of his jacket. He doesn't want to be so nervous but he can't help it.

Mr. Bruce gives him a smile, and it sets Credence at ease, just a little. 

"Okay, well, first, do you know what year it is?" 

Credence gives his head a tiny shake. 

"That's alright," Mr. Bruce assures him. "What year was it the last time you remember?"

"1926." Comes the answer, a near whisper.

There's silence, and Credence recoils, fearing he's somehow done something wrong.

"It's alright, Credence. We'd like to do a physical examination of you, is that alright? Like when you go to the doctors." 

"I've never... Been to the doctor, Mr. Bruce." 

Mr. Bruce hesitates, and again Credence flinches, fearing. 

"Well, it's nothing to worry about. Come on."

\--------

"So... Time travel." Clint says once the kid leaves the room with Bruce, his head bowed still. 

There's silence for a long moment after Clint's declaration, and then Tony puts his head in his hands and groans. 

"One day! I just want one normal day!" He says into his palms.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Bruce was having himself a little bit of trouble in controlling his big green problem. He'd asked the kid, Credence, to remove his shoes and shirt, and, for a kid who'd claimed to have never been to the doctor before, he did it without question.

It was what was under his shirt that was causing the issue. Because this boy was covered in scars. His shoulders, chest, and back seemed to have taken the brunt of it, but his arms and hands weren't free of the scars either. That wasn't even the worst part, though. The worst part was that the scars looked _intentional,_ layered over each other, and some looked recent. 

"Credence." Bruce managed after a deep breath. "Who did this to you?" 

It hurt that the boy flinched. He chewed on his lip, gaze averted, and then said, "No-one, Mr. Bruce." 

He sighed and sat down opposite the bed Credence was sat on. "Credence... You don't have to lie to me." 

"... God, Mr. Bruce. God did this to me."


	2. Ghosting

Credence Barebone was conflicted. After his declaration, Mr. Bruce had gone quiet, and Credence feared the worst. He had wanted to stand and present his belt, like he did with Ma, or even get to his knees like he did with Mr. Graves, but he did neither of those things. 

Instead, he sat quietly where he'd been told to, hands in his lap, shoulders bent.

 _Let me out,_ crooned his monster, digging claws into his ribs.  _I can make it all go away._

He dug his nails into the soft scar tissue on his palm and took a quiet, shuddering breath to control it. He could control it. 

( _I don't think I want to.)_

Before he could think too much into that, Mr. Bruce was there again, asking him to stand against a measuring stick to accurately get his height, and then weighed him. 

Whatever the numbers said made Mr. Bruce frown, and Credence's heart caught in his chest for a terrifyingly long moment. 

But then the frown was gone, and Mr. Bruce was handing him back his shirt with a smile. "You did well, Credence." 

The praise had something warm blooming in his chest, almost blocking out the angered snarls of the monster. 

 A tiny, barely-visible smile blooms on his face, and he looks down at the floor to stop Mr. Bruce from seeing it.

Then, Mr. Bruce led him out of the strange, white room, and up the stairs, into a long hallway. The carpet was soft on his bare feet, and he curled his toes into it.

Mr. Bruce led him into a massive room, with a huge bed and a dresser. "This is where you can stay, Credence. If you want to." 

"Oh, um... I wouldn't want to dirty your bed, Mr. Bruce. I can sleep on the floor." The carpet was soft enough under his feet that it would be so much better than the wooden slats of the bed Ma made him sleep in.

Once again, he missed Mr. Bruce's frown because he was staring at the carpet. "Credence... Would you like to shower first, then?" 

"Shower...?" He questioned. Showers were for the upper class, which Credence most surely was not. "You'd let me use your shower?" 

Mr. Bruce frowned at him and made him shuffle backwards. "Of course you can, Credence. Do you need any help?" 

Credence shook his head, glancing across to the bathroom. It was nice, done in pale greys and blues. 

"There are towels in the cupboard there, I'll get you some spare clothes." 

He went to protest, but thought better of it and closed the door to the bathroom quietly.

The shower looked much more high-tech than he'd expected. He hesitantly pulled out one of the (extremely soft) towels from the cupboard Mr. Bruce had indicated, running his fingers over it with the look he usually reserved for prayer. 

Then he set it aside and, with shaky hands, started to unbutton his shirt, keeping his gaze on the ceiling. 

He folded it neatly, putting it down, and then unbuckled his belt, though the sound of it nearly had him freezing in abject terror. Then he took off his pants and folded them too, leaving him fully unclothed. He touched the shower, unsure, and startled when it turned on on it's own. He stuck his leg into the spray and found it pleasantly warm.

Greed was a sin, but... 

He chewed on his lip. The shower _had_ turned on warm, so it wasn't his fault. He would just be very quick. 

With that thought, he slipped into the shower, feeling the tension in his shoulders melt away at the warm touch of the water.

\--

Every single person in the room looked downright horrified. And for good reason. 

On the TV screen in front of them, various pictures were scattered, each one showing some part of Credence's shoulders, back, sides, or arms. 

"Jesus..." Muttered someone. 

"He's almost ten pounds underweight." Bruce said, sighing and turning the TV off. "And he said he'd never been to the doctor before. Steve, you were... Six? The year he said he came from." 

Steve nodded in agreement.

"Maybe you can help him adjust, then."

Before Steve could answer, a quiet voice cut through the air. "Mr. Bruce?" 

Bruce turned, eyebrows raising. Credence was stood in the doorway, damp hair hanging over his eyes, swamped in one of Clint's t-shirts and a pair of his sweatpants. His clothes were clenched tightly to his chest. "Am I allowed to keep these?" He asked softly, as if he daren't breathe for fear of upsetting anyone else.

"Of course you are, Credence." Bruce said quietly, offering him a small smile, hoping to see it returned. 

It wasn't, and the boy rapidly retreated, not wanting to push his luck.

Bruce sighed. 

They'd make progress, surely. But for now, they had to figure out just how a teenage boy managed to complete something the smartest minds on the planet had been working on for decades.


	3. Verbatim

Credence woke early, a side effect of rising with the sun every morning. Four, as usual. Only, this time, it was with a quiet yawn rather than a sudden startle, and his left side wasn't aching from being dug into the slats all night. 

What was worse was his sisters weren't either side of him like they usually were. Chastity sometimes woke up before him, but Modesty couldn't get out of the bed without waking him. He felt for her, hoping that he'd missed her in his sleepy daze, but his fingers only touched soft matress. 

Wait. 

His head was on a pillow softer than anything he'd ever touched, and his body was supported by a matress equally as soft. He was curled up underneath a heavy blanket, and he was wearing comfortable, clean clothes. 

Abruptly, everything that had happened the day before came rushing back to him and he leapt out of the bed as if burnt. 

He had told himself that he would only take a short shower, so as not to use the hot water, but he'd found that they had soap, and surely it wasn't greedy to use it if it had been offered, was it? And then he'd been given clothes, and it was rude to refuse so he hadn't put his scratchy, uncomfortable ones back on. And then he'd told himself he would sleep on the floor, because the carpet was more than soft enough, but he just wanted to sit on the bed, to see what it was like. Before he'd even known it, he was asleep.

He quickly fell to his knees and lifted his hands in prayer, begging God to forgive him for his sinful greed, in case this was a very elaborate test by Ma and she was actually watching his every move. 

Once he'd prayed thrice over, he got to his feet and left the room he'd been graciously given by his hosts. He hadn't even thanked them, another thing to be punished for. 

His punishments were stacking up, and he hoped that if Ma was going to show up she would do it soon, rather than saving all the punishment until he'd done something unforgivable.

Luckily, so early in the morning no-one was awake, and he could explore in peace. The floors in this place didn't creak at all, so he could be much less careful with where he let his feet fall, and it was much faster.

The first room he came across made his stomach cramp painfully and his mouth water. A kitchen. 

Gluttony was a sin, but it wasn't gluttony if he was just taking a bit, right? Just to stave off the hunger pains?

(Ma never did care much for technicalities.)

He silently slipped into the kitchen, nibbling on his lip. Just a little bit, and then he'd go back to his room and pray some more. 

Mind made up, Credence quietly opened the fridge, and the sight made his jaw drop. There was so much food, more than he'd ever seen in his life, and he hardly knew where to start. 

He would take more than he was planning to, but he'd take it to his room and hide it for another time. He grabbed a few things, vegetables, mostly, since they tended to keep him full for longer. He couldn't stop himself from grabbing a large bar of chocolate with a label he couldn't even read on it and a bag of apples, despite both being so far beyond the bare essentials he usually got even holding them made him feel rich. 

Arms now full of food, he closed the fridge as quietly as he could and began to pad back to his room, the cold tile floor making him shiver. 

It didn't take him long to get back there, having memorized the route the first time. His stomach cramped again, sharply, as he closed his bedroom door. 

Just a few bites, and then he'd hide the rest for later. 

He set all the food down on the carpet, his eyes scanning his haul. This would last him at least three days, maybe five if he was careful. 

Credence had to be careful.

He picked up a carrot and snapped it neatly in half, and then in half again. 

As he chewed, he felt a small smile bloom on his face. He'd provided for himself.

\----

Unbeknownst to Credence, he was being watched. 

Bruce and Steve were staring at the screen with the security camera footage on it; Bruce to make sure Credence was safe and Steve to see if Credence was having any trouble adjusting to 2018 like he had.

So far, it seemed like he wasn't, but with what Bruce had told them, the poor kid had been abused, and badly. 

They'd watched him creep into the kitchen, gather as much food as could fit into his skinny arms, and then creep back out just as quietly. His gaze had landed on the camera for all of a second, and it had made Steve shiver with the intensity of it. 

"Bruce, could you go back a little?" He asked, and Bruce did so. "There, stop." 

He clumsily zoomed in on Credence's face. On the camera, for a split second, his eyes had appeared to be pure white. "Is that normal?" 

He heard Bruce click his tongue, and then shake his head. "I don't think so. I'll ask Tony later, but I'm pretty sure that isn't normal."

The feed sped up to get back to the present. Credence had stood and was moving his food stache into the closet, into one of the drawers at the bottom. 

"He's done that before." Remarked Steve as he watched. "Bucky used to do the same thing." 

Bruce sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I suspected he'd been... Abused, but I'd hoped it wasn't horrific. The scars, though... Steve, they were awful, some of them looked as though they'd been there for years." 

Steve shook his head. "I'll go and talk to him now, see if I can't help him."

And so, Steve went to do just that.

He thought about what to say on the way up to Credence's room. Once he had a proper plan, he knocked.

And knocked again.

"Is there something wrong with the door?" Asked a soft voice as said door swung open. 

Steve found that everything he was planning to say flew right out of the window. 

"Um... No, it's... Called knocking, it's so if someone is doing something private you don't intrude." 

A long stretch of silence, and then, "Oh." The boy, Credence, stepped back to allow him inside, and Steve didn't miss the way his eyes darted to the closet and back to him. 

"My name is Steve. You're Credence, right?" 

The boy nodded, curling his fingers into the hem of his borrowed shirt. Even though Clint was a few inches shorter than him, the shirt still swamped him.

"Well, Credence, I'm kind of like you. I came from the 1940s, and I... Fell asleep, for a very long time. And when I woke up, it was 2016." 

Credence's eyes had gone very big, and he exhaled softly. "That must have been really scary." He offered shyly, looking at his feet. 

Steve smiled kindly at him. "It was, but it helped me to talk about the things that were different from my life before. Would you like to try that?"

 "... Please leave me alone, Mr. Steve." Quiet as always, Credence's eyes remained on the ground. 

"I really think it would help if you talked about it."

The boy began to tremble subtly, hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt. "Please leave me alone." He repeated.

Steve frowned, reaching forward to place a hand on his shoulder. "Are you alri-"

The boy before him exploded in a cloud of black. 

 


	4. Infinitesimal

When Credence came back to himself, he was already crying. 

Tears rolled down his cheeks before they'd even properly formed, white-hot. It had been a long time since he'd cried. 

He remembered, faintly, another person in the room with him when he'd lost control of the humming, buzzing anger under his skin. 

Oh, God, he'd killed them, hadn't he? He never meant to kill anyone. 

He couldn't help but cast his gaze about for a body, a corpse to hide, but there wasn't one. There wasn't even anyone else in the room. He hiccuped and collapsed to the ground, curling his arms around his knees. The room told of the monster's destruction, claw marks in everything, the bed and dresser both completely destroyed. The closet, though, remained untouched.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, I didn't mean it-" He gasped through heaving sobs that tore the breath from his lungs. "I'm sorry..." 

The door slowly opened and Credence choked, breath hitching, and scrambled back, away, wiping his cheeks.

 "No- No, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Ma, I didn't mean it, I didn't--"

The face of Mr. Bruce swam into view through his tears, and he managed to stop babbling and frantically wipe his cheeks. 

"Credence? It's alright. I'll stay over here if you want me to, okay? I'll stay over by the bed, aright?" 

Credence narrowed his eyes. "You aren't... Mad?" 

A pause. "Well, I am, but not at you, Credence. I'm a bit upset with Steve, that's all." 

Upset at... Steve? But... "Why?" 

"Because he didn't listen to you, and that wasn't fair." 

Credence wad confused. In his experience, people will always listen to the normal people over the Freaks like him. 

"I'm a bit like you, Credence." Mr. Bruce explains. "When I get angry, I... Lose control."

"Oh." 

Bruce stood up from his crouched position and offered his hand. "Would you like to come downstairs? We have hot cocoa, and Steve is going to apologize."

Slowly, Credence uncurled, wiped his cheeks again, and nodded. Kindly, Bruce allowed him to take his hand, and the touch sent bolts of warmth up his arm. 

He followed along behind him, trying to hide behind his shoulder but not doing a very good job of it considering he was about an inch taller. 

Bruce luckily didn't seem to mind, and when Mr. Steve apologised to him in earnst Credence just nodded and managed a tiny little smile. Bruce seemed content with that and pushed a mug of cocoa at Credence, who hesitated but took it. 

The sweet taste exploded over his tongue, making him shiver, and he curled his hands more firmly around the mug just in case it got taken away from him.

He didn't notice that every eye in the room was on him until he looked up at Mr. Bruce, only to find everyone in the room staring at him.

Of course Mr. Steve would have told them about his Freakishness. Of course he would have, why wouldn't he? 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, kudos/comment if you liked! 
> 
>  
> 
> ~ Nines


End file.
